


Entwined

by Ayantiel



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: AU, Anal Sex, Celtic elements, Fingering, M/M, Magical Realism, bottom!Bond, top!Q
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 12:10:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1898496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayantiel/pseuds/Ayantiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond had always been curious about that bag that Q always carried around. It was warded, as was obvious from the symbols sewn into the fabric. He did not expect to find out what the precise source of Q's magic the way he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entwined

**Author's Note:**

  * For [entangledwood (Eryn)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eryn/gifts).



> Written for the 00Q fanwork exchange
> 
> Recipient: Entangledwood
> 
> Prompt: Inanimate objects randomly (dis)appear from Q's hands  
> It's a kind of magical (dis)ability that's run in the family for generations. Q constantly carries a magical messenger bag with him that he can store the stuff in. Usually stuff disappears when he forgets about them (one of the reasons why paperwork is now entirely digital). Stuff appears whenever it feels like it. It isn't vanishing somewhere else, it just suddenly pops up.  
> He outs himself to the 00s because an ornate dagger suddenly appears in his hand while he's briefing them on .  
> They’d like to see: humour, magical realism AU, sarcasm, top!Q, snarky!Q, self-confident!Q, bottom!Bond, self-confident!Bond  
> And dislike: angst, hurt/comfort, genderbent, kids, mpreg, death, violence, non-con, abuse,

[](http://s594.photobucket.com/user/Yirin_Erian/media/celtic-shield-knot_zps8ebe4765.jpg.html)

Bond had always been curious about that bag that Q always carried around. It was warded, as was obvious from the symbols sewn into the fabric. Celtic shield knots woven together with gold and green thread in intricate patterns. At least Bond knew that Q's magic Feature had Celtic origin. Celtic he could deal with. It was the more exotic types of magic that unnerved him. Bond was a born and bred Brit and the magic of the Scottish moors ran in his blood. He didn't have any magic Features himself. Features were still rare and some people were still distrustful of it. Bond was not perturbed by it, but he was more comfortable with magic that was familiar to him.  
Yet despite knowing that Q's Feature was Celtic, there was not much else Bond could discern. He had never seen Q do something even remotely magical. That is, unless you counted what that man could do with computers, but Bond was pretty sure Celtic magic was nature centred and had nothing to do with technology. It was one of the reasons why Bond was so intrigued and determined to learn more about his Quartermaster's Feature.  
All he knew was that Q always carried his warded messenger bag around. It seemed sewn onto his shoulder so perpetual was its presence. Bond had seen Q put things inside it, a pen, some papers, one time even a tablet. But he had very rarely seen Q retrieve something from it. He wondered if there was some sort of ritual, or vocalised spell needed for it that Q wished to keep private.  
Q had noticed his interest of course, he wouldn't be head of his own branch if he wasn't observant, but he did not comment on it. Whenever he caught Bond looking at his bag curiously he simply raised an eyebrow at him and continued his usual talk about 'returning the equipment for once, 007'. It only made Bond all the more curious. One time he had even tried breaking into Q's office to take a closer look at the bag. Q had been taking a kip on the sofa in his office after a 22-hour shift with another 12-hour shift coming when Bond had snuck in. The messenger bag was safely tucked under Q's arm.  
He wasn't stupid enough to try and take the bag or even so much as touch it without Q's consent. Bond had grown up with enough magic around to know that you did not mess with it. The shield knots seemed innocent enough, but so did Q's glasses and Bond knew for a fact that Q had weaponised those. Instead he simply studied the symbols and tried to discern their exact meaning. He soon found that he really should have listened to his mother's lessons more while he had the chance because he could make no sense of them. He left Q to his sleep and left.

In the end it was not because of any scheme on his part that he finally found out what Q's Feature was. Ironically enough it had nothing to do with the previously mentioned bag. Well... Almost nothing.  
Bond had headed for Q-branch with Alec by his side. They were to be sent off on a co-op mission that should be fairly straightforward. They were arguing back and forth about Q's strange bag as they were walking.

“Have you ever seen him without the bloody thing? As if those cardigans aren't bad enough. He's like an old grandpa that decided to go to uni and got de-aged or something.” Alec said and Bond barked out a laugh.

“He does look a bit like a ridiculous ferret sometimes.” Bond agreed.

“Ferret? He's more like a mouse surely.” Alec argued.

“Or a cat-”

They continued squabbling over what furry animal their Quartermaster resembled most as they made their way inside, catching a few amused glances from some of Q's minions. When they saw the man in question they shared a single look and agreed “Cat.” Q looked about ready to curl up and purr if petted, if not for his tense posture. So most likely to hiss actually, Bond mused.  
Q raised an eyebrow at the pair of them.

“I'd ask but I'm not sure I want to know.” he said. “And it's no matter. We're to focus on the mission at hand. I trust you have read the files?”

The agents both nodded and Q continued his usual pre-op pep talk and handed them their equipment. Bond was only half listening as the Quartermaster explained its functions. He really did look tired, Bond noted and wondered how many straight hours Q had been working. He had dark circles under his eyes and he kept blinking, as though he was fighting off a headache.  
Bond was so caught up in his own thoughts that when it happened, he reacted a split second later than Alec. As Q was talking and gesturing, suddenly a dagger appeared in his left hand, glinting. It triggered an instinctive response in Alec and in an instant Q was disarmed and had his arm twisted painfully at his back before he could so much as look at the dagger in surprise. Bond quickly intervened when Q made a pained sound and pulled the two apart.

“Sorry” Alec muttered.

“No reason,” Q said as he rolled his shoulder, wincing slightly. “You saw a blade and reacted, as your training would have you do.” He added a heartfelt 'fuck!' that made Bond smirk a bit.

Alec picked up the offending weapon from where it had been dropped on the floor and studied it curiously.

“Nice blade. Care to tell me where you conjured it from and why?”

“There is no why.” Q said a bit testily. “I don't get into the habit of conjuring up items that may be perceived as a threat to deadly field agents. I have a better sense of self preservation than that thanks.”

It was as if a light bulb was turned on his head and Bond could hit himself for not seeing it sooner.  
“That's why you have that bloody bag. You're a transporter.”

“Yes and no. I don't actually transport anything from one place to another. Unless you want to go into a complicated discussion about planes of existence and what lies in between.” Q said. “But yes, my bad wards against my own Feature. Do you know how annoying it is to never have a bloody pen on you when you need one because they keep zapping off to god knows where?”

Alec sniggered. “Or toiletpaper.”

Q glared at him. “Yes, thank you for that particular image, Trevelyan.”

“So you have no control over it? At all?” Bond asked with a small frown.

“It's no danger to my work, if that's what you're asking. Usually it is only small objects that appear or disappear. The size of that knife is actually quite remarkable. But I'm getting carried away. You two need to go off on your mission. We can discuss this at a later time if you really are that curious.”

Q pointedly looked at Bond and the agent grinned.

“I'll hold you to that.”

–

“007, when I said we could discuss this later I did not mean during a mission and especially not while you're getting shot at. Focus!”

Bond laughed and quickly ducked behind a desk, bullets flying past overhead.

–

 

Overtime Bond developed the habit of hanging around Q-branch in between missions. Sometime he pestered Q with questions about his Feature, sometimes he just watched Q work. Occasionally he poked at whatever was lying around, half out of curiosity, and half because Q was hilarious when he was annoyed and was trying to stay professional. Bond knew for a fact that Q could swear like a sailor, and in six different languages to boot and it was a never ending source of entertainment to try and get his Quartermaster to do just that.  
Observing Q had led to Bond discovering more about his Feature. There were many people in the world who had a magical Feature of some kind. There were people who had actual abilities that they could fully control. Some people were cursed. And some, like Q, preferred to see their Feature simply as something that was a part of their life. Sometimes it was a nuisance, but sometimes it actually came in useful. Bond had witnessed with some amusement how Q had accidentally knocked his tablet stylus off his desk, and then unknowingly had kicked it off about fifteen feet.  
Q had not noticed any of this and was taking a sip of his tea as he read something on said tablet. When he reached for the stylus that had since been relocated to underneath R's chair, Q finally looked away from his reading in search of said stylus. A split second later an identical copy of the stylus appeared in Q's hand and a pleased smile appeared on his face. When he noticed Bond grinning at him, he, curiously enough, flushed a bit.

–

“Oh for god's sake, 007!” Q cried out when he slapped Bond's fingers away from a delicate instrument yet again. “Fine! This weekend, my place, you can ask all you want about my Feature and then you bloody well leave it alone, alright?”

Bond's answering grin was a bit worrying.

–

Q's flat was a strange mixture of tidy and chaos. The kitchen was spotless as was the dining table. But everywhere else you could find bits and pieces of technology, tools and books. Q did have a bookcase but half of its contents were spread out over the flat. Bond picked up a book that lay open on the dining table and read the back cover.

“Charms and Cybernetics: A study of magic and modern day technology.” Bond read aloud. “Working on some interesting gadgets I should know about?”

“Actually I was studying the section about programming, but now that you mention it, I might look into that.” Q said as muddled about in the kitchen. “Not that you'll find any use of it. You don't have a Feature do you?”

“No, I don't.” Bond said and then paused, debating wether he should speak the next few words. He was not one to volunteer information about his past. He chalked it up to healthy paranoia. But something compelled him to say it anyway.

“But my mother did.”

Q stopped in his tracks and turned to look at him, his expression unreadable. Then he turned, put the kettle he had been fumbling with away, and instead reached for two glasses and got out a bottle of whiskey. Bond snorted, but appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

“Is that why you're so curious about mine? I'm guessing your mother's Feature was Celtic based as well then?” Q asked as he poured them both a glass.

Bond made a face.

“Please don't turn this into a psych eval. I have no desire to do any soul searching into the origin of my curiosity.”

“Sorry...” Q muttered.

He sat down on the sofa and Bond joined him, leaving a respectful distance between them. They were not exactly friends, but not just colleagues either. They got on too well for that.

“Well.. get on with it then.” Q said. “What do you want to know?”

“You don't have your bag on now. You're not afraid your whiskey will disapparate?”

“Did you just make a Harry Potter reference?” Q asked with an amused smile. “Not as much of an ancient relic as you seem then. Anyway, no I'm not afraid my drink will disappear. Usually my Feature only affects things that are not the focus of my attention. So no, my glass won't disappear because I'm currently holding it.  
My bag only wards against my Feature inside it. I purely have it so I can put things there that I cannot afford to lose, or simply don't want to lose. I have a special compartment just for writing utensils.”

“How many pens have you lost?” Bond asked with a grin.

“Too bloody many.” said Q and Bond laughed.

“What about things appearing then? Can you not ward against that?”

“Sort of... There seems to be a bit of a balance regarding things appearing and disappearing. So if I ward against things disappearing I automatically ward against things appearing as well.”

Bond hummed, lost in thought for a moment. He took a sip of his drink. It was surprisingly good. He told Q as much.

“I do have some taste.” was the response, and for a while they said nothing and just sat in companionable silence, enjoying their drinks.

“My mother used to try and teach me about Celtic charms.” Bond said after a while, surprising both himself and his Quartermaster. Q seemed to understand the significance of Bond volunteering information about his past and kept quiet.  
Bond wasn't sure why he had brought up his mother again. Usually he tried his damnest to forget about his past. It was just easier that way. But for some reason talking with Q about was not painfully like it usually was. Instead of the crushing emptiness, he could simply remember her without feeling her absence too much.

“I never had much patience for it. I think she was disappointed when I didn't present any type of Feature.”

“It's not necessarily genetic.” Q mused and Bond could kiss him for the lack of pity. His words were laced with curiosity rather than sympathy.

“It's unknown what causes Features. There seems to be some hereditary element. The fact that you can trace lineage through the origin of Features should be telling enough. It's fascinating, really.”

“And yet you didn't study Features at uni.” Bond remarked as Q refilled their glasses.

“That would be like studying green eyes.” Q said. “My Feature is not particularly impressive or useful. It's just something I happen to have.”

“Like green eyes.” Bond murmured, looking into said eyes.

“Like green eyes.” Q confirmed.

–

Bond still hung around Q-branch. Q still pretended that it annoyed him.

–

Somehow Bond ended up at Q's place again. It was after a mission and Bond didn't feel like being alone with his thoughts. When he showed up at Q's door, Q was surprised but let him in without a word. Bond sat on the sofa and drank the whiskey that Q offered him.  
Q was beside him working on his laptop, enjoying a cup of tea himself. Neither of them said a word the entire time Bond was there and it was perfect. He wondered how Q always seemed to know what he needed, almost as if by instinct. He figured that's why he made such an excellent Quartermaster. Bond slept on the sofa and he left at the crack of dawn, leaving only a hastily scribbled 'Thanks' next to the half-empty bottle.

–

The next time Bond visited Q, the Quartermaster was mending a patch on his messenger bag. The chatted for a bit until Bond got fed up with the tiny hisses of pain and soft cursing from Q as he once again pricked himself in the finger.

“Oh give it here then.” He said, taking the needle and thread from a surprised Q.

He worked quickly and effortlessly. Q looked both amused and grateful.

“How did you get so good at needlework?” he asked.

“You learn fast enough when you have to sew up your own arm.” Bond said and Q made a face that Bond frankly found adorable.

“Can't handle a bit of blood, Quartermaster?”

“I can handle blood perfectly well, 007, I just don't like needles sticking in mine.”

Bond made sure his patchwork was flawless and wordlessly checked the rest of the bag for any other patches that needed mending.

–

The first time Q visited Bond instead was the first time they kissed. Honestly Bond hadn't really seen it coming. Q had waltzed in after he had opened the door, dropped his messenger bag off his shoulder and said “Let's get this out of our systems then.” before suddenly kissing him.  
Bond tensed up at first, his brain working at a lightning speed to process everything that was happening. Q was kissing him. Q was attracted to him. Oh. Oh. And then Bond was kissing him back with a passion he hadn't known was there.

“Not that I'm complaining but... Where did that come from?” Bond asked when they finally broke the kiss. He had one arm still wrapped around Q's waist, the other was resting between his shoulder blades as if waiting before he could card his hands through Q's hair.

Q stared at him for a few seconds, calculating.

“God, you're daft.” He decided. “And oblivious too. You honestly hadn't realised?”

“I didn't even know I fancied kissing you until just now.” Bond admitted. It earned him a fond chuckle and another kiss, so he could live with being mocked for a bit.

Suddenly Q swore violently.

“What is it?”

Q showed him the ugliest tie Bond had ever seen.

“Uhm Q, if you were planning on tying me up, I've got ties in the closet that don't melt your eyes.”

“It just appeared. If I had any control over my Feature I would have summoned an aspirin. But good to know you'd be up for that.” Q said, managing a smile.

“I have some aspirin if you like.” Bond offered. Q nodded.

He went and fetched a glass some water and the aspirin for Q. When he returned Q had taken a seat on the sofa and there was an item on the coffee table that Bond was sure wasn't his.

“Is your Feature triggered by stress by any chance?” Bond asked as he handed Q the aspirin.

“Sometimes. The trouble with my Feature is that it is unpredictable. It seems to react to my emotional state occasionally though, yes. Remember the dagger?”

Bond chuckled at the memory. “Alec's face was priceless.”  
He picked up the fake moustache that had appeared and studied it.

“Tennyson being an arse again?” He asked as he sat down next to Q.

Q tossed back the aspirin and nodded. “That man needs to get out the rake that is shoved up his backside and fix his moustache with it. It looks like a rat died on his upper lip.”

Bond laughed and gave into the urge to run his hands through Q's hair. Q let out a soft sigh and leaned into the touch. Bond figured he could get used to this.

–

Q stayed the night. This time they didn't bother with the sofa. It had been ages since Bond had slept with anyone without it being an euphemism. Q was out like a light as soon as he hit the pillow and Bond took the opportunity to watch him sleep. 

The next morning, Q was feeling a lot better, as proven by the fact that he was currently kissing his neck.

“Mornin'” Bond mumbled.

“I'm certainly trying to make it so.” Q said.

“Well, let's make this a team effort then.”

Bond pulled Q on top of him and kissed him. For a moment they just focused on kissing each other, enjoying the feel of their bodies pressed together. Q was already half hard and moaned softly into the kiss when Bond experimentally rolled his hips against him.

“Do you have any preference?” Bond asked.

“Not particularly. I like both giving and receiving.” Q said, almost growling the words against his skin as he kissed his neck again. He seemed to have a fondness for Bond's neck. Seeing as it made Bond rapidly reach a similar state of arousal as Q was in, he was not about to complain. “So you can fuck me if you like.”

“Actually, I'd like you to fuck me into the mattress instead.” Bond breathed, eliciting another moan from Q at the words. He let his hands wander over his body, coming to rest at Q's waist and Bond marvelled at how lithe he was. Yes, he definitely wanted Q to fuck him senseless.

“Didn't think you'd be the type.” Q said between kisses.

Bond shrugged. “Used to be.” he admitted “Then a rather adventurous lady showed me the wonders that a prostate massage could do. Besides, I don't get to be the one getting fucked nearly often enough.”

“Mmm let's remedy that.” Q purred. “Lube and condoms?”

“Bedside drawer. Top one.”

As Q moved to fetch said items, Bond got rid of his pyjama bottoms and slipped out of his underpants as well. Q put the condom on Bond's night stand and knelt between the agent's legs. He let his hands glide over the skin of Bond's thighs before moving to press a kiss to a scar on Bond's right knee.

“St. Petersburg.” Bond offered, watching Q. “Crashed a motorcycle.”

Q moved his lips along Bond's leg to the next scar. “Bayamo. Knife fight.” But Q kept going, leaving a trail of butterfly soft kisses in his wake. He moved past Bond's groin and Bond let out an involuntarily, regretful sigh. Q grinned at him and moved to his left thigh, nuzzling it. His fingers once again glided over his skin and Bond found himself moving into it gently. Q developed a rhythm of sensual touches, circling around his groin but never touching where Bond's cock now lay heavy against his stomach.  
When he pulled away, Bond swore softly.

“You minx.”

“Patience, my dear 007.” Q said with a truly devious grin. “You'll get your pleasure, don't you worry.”

He grabbed the bottle of lube and squirted a generous amount onto his fingers. He circled around Bond's entrance first, before gently pressing against it, not quite pushing in just yet. Q leaned up and gave him an absolutely filthy kiss.

“Get on with it” Bond growled, desperate by now. Q had truly delicious fingers and he ached to feel them inside him. When Q finally pushed one in Bond let his head fall back against the pillows with a groan.  
Q fingered him slowly, occasionally leaning in to kiss his neck or nibble at his collarbone. By the time he pushed in a second finger Bond was achingly hard and panting. Q curdled his fingers inside him, searching, until he had Bond arching of the bed with a deep, rumbling moan.

“Fuuuuck”

“Soon” Q said happily and Bond let out a breathless laugh.

“Cheeky little shit” Bond accused and Q kissed him by way of apology.

Q was nothing if not meticulous. He took his time stretching him, soon adding a third finger, all the while making sure to tease and kiss Bond in such maddening ways that kept him rock hard. Pre-come was shining at the tip of his cock when Q pulled his fingers out.

“Fucking hell!” Q suddenly exclaimed.

“Wha-?” Bond said, before following Q's line of sight. The condom had disappeared from his night stand. He chuckled and it soon turned into full blown laughter.

“I'm glad you find it funny.” Q said with a pout.

“Relax, Q. I've got more condoms in the drawer. Just get another one.” Bond said with a fond smile.

“Sorry, that just gets frustrating after a while.” Q muttered.

“This has happened before?” Bond asked, amused.

“Oh hush!”

Q got out another condom and quickly got it out of the wrapper. He rolled it onto his erection with an expression of such adorable concentration that it urged Bond to pull him into a deep kiss.

“Last chance to back out.” Q whispered against his lips. Bond simply kissed him again.

“Fuck me”

Bond had rarely, if ever, been fucked with such care as Q did. He entered him slowly and kissed every inch of skin he could reach while he waited for Bond to adjust. Bond meanwhile could not get enough of touching Q. The planes and curves of his body were a work of art, and the few scars and blemishes only made him even more gorgeous to Bond. When they moved they moved in tandem, each with the single focus of giving the other pleasure. The push and pull was hypnotic, even as they sped up.  
Q's moans were among the most beautiful of sounds Bond had ever heard and he desperately grinded down against Q, faster and faster, in an effort of drawing more moans from his lips. Q reached for Bond's cock and started jacking him off in time with their thrusts, the actions made uncoordinated by Q's rapidly approaching orgasm. His cries grew more desperate and his thrusts more erratic until he finally fell over the edge with a whimper of Bond's name.  
Bond replaced Q's hand with his own and pumped his cock hard and fast. He moaned deeply when he came, the sound swallowed by Q's kisses. Q pulled out and knotted off the condom before falling back into bed with Bond, who immediately pulled him close. They lay there in each others arms, catching their breath and occasionally sharing kisses. Q eventually dozed off and Bond carded fingers through his hair, marvelling at how easy this intimacy with Q seemed to come. When Q woke again, Bond was drawing constellations between his freckles.

–

Bond traced the lines of gold and green thread with his fingers. The shield knot was small, but had been sewn into the inner lining of his favourite suit jacket with great care. When he came home from the mission, he kissed Q's fingers over and over. One for each tiny prick of red.

 

The End.


End file.
